A thousand times, Tyler had wondered why he hadn’t been the one to take the bullet. No one in his family gave a shit about him. Sometimes, he felt guilty for still walking, for being whole, while Eric was stuck in a wheelchair. If only they’d waited for backup . . .
“You will. You’re recovering.” Tyler tried to sound positive, then took another sip of his beer. He had to keep Eric thinking happy thoughts, looking forward to the future. “And when you’re up again, maybe you should tell Captain Rogers to fuck himself and come work for me. I follow a lot of cheating spouses and shit, but I also help people. Just this week, I think I found a guy’s long-lost, runaway sister. He hasn’t seen her in almost fifteen years. It’s a good feeling to put families back together. Tell me you don’t want to be a part of that and keep more of the pay.”
“Chasing cheating spouses sounds crappy.”
Yeah, and seeing all the infidelity had put Tyler off of marriage. Not that he’d been a deep believer in the institution before. God knows, his parents had sucked at it before his father split. Eric hadn’t been perfect, either.
Tyler took another sip of beer. “But I don’t have Rogers yelling at me, and it pays the bills.”
“I guess the cheating cases are cheap entertainment, too. Like free porn, eh, man?”
Before he could reply, the back door opened. “If you two are swapping porn collections, I’m going shopping.”
Del breezed in, wearing a beige pencil skirt that hugged the slender curve of her hips, a silk blouse in a shade of blue that reminded him of a male peacock’s feathers, and shiny black high heels. The latter she stripped off the second she cleared the kitchen. Then she spotted them sucking down brews and doubled back to the kitchen, pulling the pins out of her glossy, mahogany hair as she went.
When she emerged again, she clutched a beer and handed it to him with a pleading look. After Tyler twisted off the cap for her, she downed a long sip with a groan. “God, that tastes like Friday. Thanks.” Then she turned her smile on Eric. “Hi, handsome.”
“Hi, gorgeous.” Eric turned on his megawatt smile, flashing white teeth against that dark Italian skin of his. That smile had persuaded more than one girl to part with her panties in the five years they’d been partners. If Eric had been fully functional, Del would likely have gotten some action tonight.
But neither of them had been remotely sexual since the shooting. Tyler knew it bugged the shit out of Eric. The guy flat loved fucking, the raunchier, the better. He’d drunkenly confessed once that Del wasn’t that into sex. Glancing her way, Tyler thought that was a shame. She definitely had all the right curves in all the right places. A damn pretty girl. But more, she gave off this vibe . . . subtle, but undeniably sensual. Teasing. Then again, part of her appeal for Tyler was that she was off limits. Sure, he’d been attracted to Del when he’d first met her, but she was Eric’s. Tyler refused to break the buddy code for a woman, no matter how appealing.
For the last two years, he’d put all sexual thoughts of her aside—well, as many as he could—and regarded her as a good friend he drank beer and watched TV with . . . who also happened to have a great rack. Since then, they’d established a great platonic connection. He’d never been friends with a female and was surprised that he actually enjoyed spending time with her, even without the sex.
Delaney turned to him, eyes narrowed. “You started drinking without me. How many beers do I have to drink to catch up?”
She would absolutely keep up with the boys if he challenged her. She had determination and grit. He liked that about her. It had seen her through the darkest days of Eric’s recovery.
“Not telling. You’d better change clothes and get started if you have any prayer of lapping us in the alcohol department.”
With a little mock pout, she stuck out her tongue and flounced away. Tyler laughed and swatted her ass. “Move faster.”
When she rubbed her offended cheek, Eric laughed deep and loud. It was great to hear the sound. Even Del glanced over her shoulder with a grateful smile.
Relief flowed through him, almost peaceful, at seeing the couple on a more even keel. These were the people he knew—happy, teasing—not the gloom-and-doom grouch bringing down the end-of-her-rope worrywart.
This weekend was going to be good, for all of them. For Eric’s sake, he’d glossed over the fact that PI work could be boring. Finding a missing woman in Lafayette, Louisiana, had been the only interesting case he’d taken since starting his business a few months back. He’d have to go out there next week and sew the case up. Maybe a change of scenery would be good. Lately, he’d felt really . . . unsettled, unsatisfied. No clue why. Lingering concern for Eric?
Moments later, Del emerged holding her beer, wearing a pair of denim short-shorts with rhinestones and white stitching across her sweet little tush, along with a deep red V-neck tank that flowed around her slender figure. He’d always liked that shirt on her. Good color, and it showed off her breasts. Eric smiled, and Tyler bet she’d worn the shirt so her husband could appreciate her, even if he couldn’t do anything about it. Tyler tried to shove aside the fact that he appreciated the hell out of it, too.
“So?” she asked, tossing back a healthy swig of beer. “Pizza? Should we call now? I didn’t get to eat lunch today.”
And her bottle of beer was nearly empty.
“Lunch flew the coop on me, too,” Tyler complained. “Damn executive fucking his secretary over lunch at the little love nest he keeps for her. Why don’t these dumb asses ever close the drapes before they drop trou and go at it?”
They all laughed. As he described the couple’s sexual gymnastics, they finished their first beers and started the second. It wasn’t long before they popped open a third.
“Hey, Tyler.” Del sent him a saucy stare. “You still dating that skank at the strip club on Wilshire?”
He tensed, looked at Eric—who glanced away. Shit. He needed to change the subject fast. Now wasn’t the time for this cat to come out of the bag. “Destiny and I didn’t ‘date.’ We just fucked.”
Del rolled her lively blue eyes. “Duh! I was being polite, you horndog.”
“Okay. Then, no.” He grinned. “When the ‘dates’ got boring, I moved on.” And that was enough on that. He turned to Eric. “So, what did the physical therapist say this morning?”
As they discussed Eric’s recovery, they opened their fourth beer each and had a contest to see who could suck it down the fastest. After Tyler’s easy victory, his memories of that night started getting hazy.
With the beer gone, they broke out the whiskey. But soon that bottle was gone, and the sun had barely set. Then they broke into Del’s stockpile of wine while they raided the pantry and munched on some chips and salsa. But they never managed to order that pizza.